(FADEIN: Timmy Windham on a dock, the PCL 2 visible in the background, gutting a fish with a butter knife.)
TIMMY WINDHAM: Iím an actor Mike. If you pay me to play the part of the mental virgin, so be it. But, you canít rape the willing. Unzip into my skin, and wear me for days. Break me, until I havenít a clue as to who I am. And Iíll simply be back to the beginning.
Iím an actor, Mike.
If you asked me my name, Iíd ask the same.
Why cry about sin, why muse about big business Mike when thereís a new role to play?
Did you really think accepting a check to maim another man came attached with honor? When you stepped out of the desert, when you started running from the ghosts Mike you became a pawn, as much of a suit as Thomas or Merritt. When they asked how you felt about drugging a man you had to know this wasnít a baptism by anything but fire. Youíve made millions, and with a needle look for irony. Are you ashamed? Was the blood shed for free? I canít believe it was. Youíre a star, Mike. A caged animalÖa carnie unleashed on a Vegas show. Youíve been rewarded in this life. If youíre looking for satisfaction beyond, find a pre-teen and play the choking game.
Whatís this battle mean?
Whatís another life laid to ruins?
Iím Timmy Windham because I have no other name.
We die tomorrow, and the world goes on. We cut our hair but thereís no time. Just waste, the two of us rotting at the hands of the star dust that made us. **** writers Mike, thatís the simplest kind of poetry you can find.
Whatís remorse or morality when everything was pre-ordained?
Iíve been sure of nothing in my life, but that I must be the Last Windham Standing.
Youíre a reflection of me that stands in the way. Troyís time is coming. Troyís career, his apology to inflicting me with none of his charm, but all of his hate, is what I will get.
But, if I donítÖI win.
Haunt my dreams Mike.
Break my bones.
And when the sun fades, youíll see irony and know no shame.